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Best Poems Written by May Fenn

Below are the all-time best May Fenn poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Death Is Not the End

Death is not the end,
For love goes on
And you will find the evidence
Long after I have gone.
The flowers that we planted
Will blossom without end,
You’ll find me in their beauty
As to their needs you tend.
The books we read together,
The laughter in the pages,
Will continue to give pleasure
To you throughout the ages.
So do not mourn my passing
You are not left alone,
You’ll always find me waiting
In the places we have known.
The bond that grew between us
Will not abate with time,
It will go on for always,
I’m yours and you are mine.

Details | May Fenn Poem

Ouzatt

OWSZAT

The match was slow and boring
The runs were far between,
And an air of dreamy somnolence
Hung o’er the village green.
Then out from the pavilion
A handsome figure ran.
The crowd sat up, paid notice,
A loud applause began.
The stranger sprinted round the pitch
Disrupting all the match,
The fielder halted in his stride
And dropped an easy catch.
The umpire tried to intervene
His finger raised in protest,
The streaker slipped beneath his guard,
It really was no contest.
The team stood up and egged him on
And cheered as he gained speed,
It was a very daring act
They one and all agreed.
But when his little dangly bits
Removed the Home Team’s wicket,
A cry went roaring round the ground
“Egad Sir – that’s not cricket!”

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Mystery Solved

I saw a little button,
 It was lying on the floor,
 I wondered who had lost it
 And looked around for more.
 It hadn’t come from Donna
 Or from Stuart’s nice new shirt,
 And it wasn’t Kelly’s button
 That was lying in the dirt.
 I couldn’t find who lost it
 I had a worried frown.
 But now I know the answer,
 My trousers just fell down.

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Wake Not the Beast

Wake not the beast

 We told you not to touch him
Now you must pay the price
For not listening to your elders
And taking their advice.
Don’t prod the sleeping tiger
And cause the beast to wake
Or you might raise emotions
Too difficult to take.
Beneath that sleek exterior
There dwells a vengeful heart
With ever ready sharpened claws
To tear its prey apart.
Don’t think you can escape him
Though you are poised for flight
There is no faster creature
Than a tiger in the night.
Give thought before your sortie
For as you know full well
An action set in motion
Is difficult to quell.
Discretion is the better path
The one you have to follow
So leave the sleeping beast alone
Contained within its hollow.

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Blood Red

Poppies great beauty
Brave men dying for duty
Each nourish the earth.

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Total War

Bitterness, loneliness,
Anger and pain,
Whole worlds suffer
Yet none may gain.
Frustration, futility,
Strife without end,
Mankind’s in the dust
Death comes as a friend.

Details | May Fenn Poem

It's Spring

It’s Spring

Today I saw
A swallow fly
And spring was nigh,
An oaken branch
Puts forth its leaves
And winter grieves.
A bluebell shoot
Escapes the earth
Which gave it birth,
A black- faced lamb
With legs unfurled
Surveys the world.
White clouds parade
The heavens above
And I’m in love.

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War Grave, Name Unknown

Untimely death, why come so near
To taunt my soul with mortal fear.
I cannot go – so unprepared
So full of life and yet so scared.
The world’s held nothing for me but strife
And yet, O god, I cling to life.
A fatherless boy in a Gorbals slum
Who owes his being to a tot of rum.
The industrial school with its air of blame,
The endless fight to renounce its shame.
And then the slump with its hunger march
That swept its way to Admiralty Arch.
The years of depression without any hope
With nothing to do but sit and mope.
The look of misery in the children’s eyes
With nothing to offer but bread and lies.
The relief of war and work at last
A future for those who had no past.
Must I lose it now, with scarce a taste
Of the honeyed joy in the desert waste;
Must the death knell come as my life began
To a forgotten link in the chain of man?

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Red Sky

A red sky at night
Can be a shepherd's delight
Or house on fire

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Our Kid

A kid is not a human child
But offspring of a goat
So why do you then call him so
And thus your son demote.
Kids are animals wild and free
That butt and kick and bite,
On second thoughts – I’ve met your son,
Perhaps in fact you’re right.